Nerdmance
by The Red Celt
Summary: Shepard and Joker Shepard and Joker have developed an even closer friendship in the years after the war and they wind up as neighbors. During one of these sessions, Shepard jokingly makes a pass at Joker and gets the gears turning in his head again. Rated M for future, just in case.
1. Chapter 1

It started in a London hospital. Shepard had been there for the better part of a month, scanning the news networks and keeping in contact with Alliance command about the state of her ship. No one seemed to have any answers—communications were down across the galaxy, and it seemed anything that was even remotely related to the Protheans (which was a remarkable amount of tech) had decided to shit the bed the day the Citadel went down. When the short-range comm came up, Shepard wasted no time badgering Admiral Hackett night and day about her missing crew.

One month into her recovery, the word came in—they had found the _Normandy_, crash landed on some remote jungle planet. No word on casualties, no details, just that the ship had been found. The few days it took for the survivors to arrive were the longest in her career. She convinced the nurses, using her best scary commander voice, to allow her to be on-scene when they were brought in. They graciously (and a little nervously) agreed to her request.

Most everyone had gotten away with minor bumps and bruises, nothing Chakwas couldn't fix, but Joker hadn't been harnessed in when the ship crashed and he was beaten up badly. His injuries hadn't stopped his constant stream of sarcasm, though, and when he greeted her with, "Now, now, Commander, no need to stare. I know I make broken legs look sexy and all, but you're embarrassing me," she almost started crying. He was a twisted wreck from the waist down, and he was still covered in fading bruises. It took a team of surgeons two days to reconstruct his skeleton, replacing much of it with synthetic material. By the time they were through with him, he had almost as much metal in him as she did. He suggested forming a club, and was gracious enough to let her be President of the "I'm A Cyborg" club since she'd technically been a member longer.

Jane Shepard had never been one for casual socializing. She had about five really good friends that she liked to hang out with on a semi-regular basis, and that was all she needed. Joker was much the same, his attitude driving away all but the most stalwart of companions, and Shepard was happy to count herself among that number. During their convalescence, they spent nearly all their time together, catching up and just hanging out in general. It was nice, to be able to just talk without having to plan or strategize. It was during those days she discovered he was a fan of Firefly, and from then on it was really just a matter of time.

After the triumphant return of her crew, and once the Reapers were confirmed to be destroyed, those left behind began the long and difficult task of clearing the debris and rebuilding their respective home planets. Garrus had returned to Palaven with the promise to return as often as he could to visit, Tali was having a blast constructing her very own permanent residence on Rannoch, and Liara had gone to Thessia with an enormous cache of resources and the asari government had wisely decided not to ask about how she had acquired them in the first place. Out of their human crew members who had been aboard when they'd hit London, Vega and Cortez wound up rooming together as unofficial yet completely transparent boyfriends, and Kaidan had gone his merry way, Majoring around with the Alliance.

That left Shepard, who was home again on Earth at last with varying feelings about the situation, and Joker, a native of the colonies who'd retired from active duty to become a surveyor. His new job entailed long hours in the air, taking scans and holos to assess the scope of the damage and help the main coordinators organize the clean-up effort. He loved the work for its solitude, and the fact that he got to fly. It was a good life. Shepard, on the other hand, was among those on the ground, running the huge machines that did all the heavy lifting while others searched for usable salvage, or bodies.

There were a lot of those.

Joker had coincidentally (he swore up and down it was a coincidence, and Shepard was too busy smiling and nodding to contradict him) found a little two bedroom house near hers. Well, right next to hers, actually. It was a good arrangement for the two of them, who had gotten so used to seeing each other and talking in the cockpit over the years that neither of them wanted that to end. Although he'd never in a million years admit it aloud, she had managed to crack through the walls he'd erected around himself, becoming his closest friend in the galaxy. He thought she felt the same way, too, but both of them were too violently opposed to all those squishy "feelings" to come out and say it.

After climbing out of his small ship at the end of the day, he took a minute to check his messages before hopping (well, maybe "hopping" still wasn't in the cards for him, but he was significantly more spry than he'd ever been thanks to his mostly metal skeleton) into his car. Shepard had started sending him "random fact of the day" texts, and the one waiting for him now was entitled "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." He snorted; they'd started working their way through the old vids in Joss Whedon's oeuvre, beginning with Buffy and eventually working their way around to Firefly, which she'd never seen. It had taken exactly five minutes for Shepard to start calling him Wash.

_Random Fact of the Day: _

_Spike was originally supposed to have a Southern accent. Like Bill, that vampire from True Blood. Wanna come over tonight?_

Joker smiled to himself and quickly shot a message back saying that he'd be there soon bearing dinner. As he slid carefully into the driver's seat, one of the guys in air traffic control gave him a questioning look. It wasn't until he was halfway home that he realized he was wearing a stupid grin plastered on his face. He cleared his throat and got himself under control before he arrived, landing as gracefully as ever in the driveway. Shepard was outside, sitting in a lawn chair with a cup of something (probably water, he thought—she never drank anything else after 5:00) in her hand. She waved to him and called:

"So where's dinner, flyboy?"

"I'm getting it, hold your horses." He ducked inside just long enough to grab a few things out of the fridge, stuffed them in a bag, and carried it over to her house. "I present to you—leftover night."

"My hero." She smiled and gave him a hug before taking the bag from him and leading the way inside. Her house had taken on a life of its own since her departure from the Alliance. At first, she'd kept it Spartan and meticulously clean, a byproduct of a decade of military training, but after a few months she bought a poster. It was a big poster from Blasto 3 that had been sitting out behind the theater the last time they'd been out to the movies, and Joker had taken (read: stolen) it for her, claiming that she needed something to put on the wall. Since then, the poster had been joined by another, a vintage remake of the Return of the Jedi movie poster, which snowballed into more and more decorations until her entire house screamed with domesticity.

The new knick knacks and bookshelves, posters, and paintings weren't the only new changes. Since being released from the hospital three months after being dragged from the wreckage of the Citadel, Shepard had started to smile a lot more often. It had come as a surprise at first to realize just how little she smiled back on the Normandy, but now it seemed like she was genuinely happy a lot of the time. She still had her dark days—they both did—but being around each other, a reminder of the old days and a promise of a future after the war, was better therapy than a thousand head-shrinkers could ever be. The same way she could galvanize her crew into throwing themselves headlong through an unmapped relay, so she could also lighten the mood without even being aware of it. She brought out the best in everyone around her, and—

Oh hell, there he went getting all sentimental again.

"Are these . . . homemade cookies?" she asked, arching an amused eyebrow in his direction.

"Huh?"

"There are chocolate chip cookies in here, and they didn't come from the store."

"No, I made those."

The thought of Joker, her unflappable asshole of a pilot, baking in his kitchen was too much and Shepard started laughing. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said, making a big show of being offended. He snatched the bag of cookies away and took one out, holding it up like an exclamation point. "I wanted a cookie, but I didn't have any and the store was closed, and I deemed that shit unacceptable. Now as you know, I am not easily thwarted by such trivial things as closing times, so I got on the extranet and looked up how to make them. Through much trial and error and airing out of smoke, I finally baked the most awesome cookies that ever were." He bit into the one he was holding and offered the bag to her, and she took one for herself.

"I'm gonna buy you an apron."

"I'm sure it'll look really good in the back of my closet."

She looked at the cookie in her hand, now with a crescent-shaped bite mark in it, and nodded appreciatively. "These are some damn good cookies, flyboy."

"Told ya. I'll give you the recipe if you want it."

She snorted and held a hand over her mouth to keep the crumbs contained. "Are we going to be like those housewives who exchange recipes and do bake sales? Because I think that would actually top your Galaxy at War obsession for the nerdiest thing ever."

"You're just jealous of my mad baking skills," he said, limping over to the couch to take the weight off his legs, which were getting creakier by the second.

"Hell yes, I am. Send it to me when you get home."

"See, was that so hard?" He met her scowl with an innocent grin, which looked out of place on the scoundrel's face. He tilted his head in the direction of the television and said, "Still stuck in Nibelheim, I see."

"Yeah, I can't figure out the damn piano puzzle. At least it's easier to see what I'm doing in the remade version—Final Fantasy 7 is a great game, but the original graphics looked like hot garbage."

"Hey, they were revolutionary for the time," Joker retorted, always the defender of all things of vintage Earth-craftsmanship. "For the first 3-D Final Fantasy game ever, it was amazing."

"You have a point," she conceded. "Let me just save my game, and we can start off season five of Buffy."

While he waited, he started divvying up the food and finally leaned back against the couch with a sigh. Shepard glanced at him out of the corner of her eye trying not to show too much concern; he joked about his new implants, but his spine was still part of the original model. The added weight of all that metal had taken some getting used to, and sometimes he still had a hard time with it. She noticed that sometimes he looked more pale and drawn after a long day, and wished he would just retire altogether. It wasn't as though he didn't have the resources—the Alliance had decided to provide for the entire Normandy crew for the rest of their days, at Shepard's urging (one could call it shouting, were one so inclined)—but she knew what his reasoning was. He was a pilot at heart, and he'd always been more at home in the sky than on land. The fact that he'd willingly gone civilian at all had surprised the hell out of her, but she was grateful for his company. Between the nightmares she still had from time to time, her own recovery from her injuries, and the solitude of semi-retirement, she feared what she'd become if left to her own devices.

"You feeling okay?" she asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

"Just achy. I haven't been in for PT this month, and it's starting to get to me."

"I could give you a massage, if you want."

It was meant to be casual and friendly, but she immediately regretted the offer when he raised an eyebrow at her. "You want to give me a massage?"

"Forget I said anything."

"You want to get all up on this?" He started shimmying around, rubbing his chest like a drunken Chippendale stripper, and she had to bite her cheeks to keep from laughing.

"Shut the fuck up, Joker," she said, the effect totally ruined by the goofy look on her face as she suppressed the giggles that bottlenecked at her throat.

"Go ahead and turn all this sexy man-meat to putty in your hands."

"I swear to god, if you say anything else, I'll . . ." She stopped, unable to think of a suitable punishment that didn't involve sending him home (which would leave her alone and bored for the rest of the night) or breaking him.

"You'll what?" He scooted a little closer and looked at her expectantly.

"Nothing." It was right about then they both realized that they were maybe six inches away from each other, which changed the mood from playful to somewhat awkward in roughly one-tenth of a second. "Let's just, ah . . . let's just get the show started."

"Yeah, okay." He moved back over to his original spot and tried for casual, but didn't quite make it.

The show started and they went quiet for a while. Every time he caught himself looking in her direction he forced his eyes back to the screen, but he was still overly aware of her presence at the end of the sectional sofa—her legs stretched out in front of her on the long cushion, crossed at the ankle, with a plate of chicken and mashed potatoes balanced on her thighs.

Joker didn't even realize that the show was over until the Mutant Enemy monster shuffled across the screen going, "Grr, arrgh." His shoulders were so tight that he thought they would just climb right up over his ears, and he stretched with a groan.

"So, Buffy has a sister apparently," Shepard said, skipping through the opening theme song to get to the next episode, "and no one's commented on how fucking weird that is yet?"

"I know, right? You'd think someone would have mentioned the teleporting teenager by now. It's so weird seeing Buff do the whole sibling rivalry thing." He tried to cover the wince that contorted his face when a bolt of pain shot up his neck, but Shepard saw it anyway. She didn't say anything, just watched him with the question on her face.

"Are you done?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"With your dinner. I'll take your plate to the kitchen."

"Oh. Uh, yeah, go for it." She took it and he turned back to the television, debating over whether he should stay for the whole thing or part of it or just leave when she came back, sat down, and patted the spot in front of her.

"Get over here, Joker."

"I'm going to PT tomorrow, Mom, I promise."

"You and I both know that if you don't work your neck out now, you'll be useless tomorrow. Now, carry your ass over here." He couldn't argue with that logic, and wasn't even sure he wanted to. He hauled himself up, lurched the three steps over to her side of the couch, and sat down in front of her crossed legs. She started with his shoulders, gently at first to ease his aching muscles into the stimulation and he rolled his head back so far his hat almost fell off.

"You know, Shep, I was kidding before about turning me into putty but damn, you're pretty good at this."

He could hear the smile in her voice when she said, "I've had a bit of practice over the years."

"I still maintain that you just wanted to get your hands on me."

"And what if I did?" She was trying for playful, but there was something else there, too, a timidity that sounded strange in her voice. He did his best to play along with the charade, but he thought that at least a small part of her was serious about just wanting the chance to touch him. It was flattering, really, and he had to admit that he liked it. Probably more than he should.

"I could hardly blame you," he said, "I'm probably the most devilishly handsome guy I know."

"And so modest, too."

"It's a gift."

She slowly moved from his shoulders to his neck and took off his hat, her fingers weaving into his short, thick hair as she massaged his scalp and the spot behind his ears where all his headaches seemed to originate. Those nimble fingers of hers sought out all the knots of muscle and rubbed them smooth again and he closed his eyes, melting into the sensation. Her arm slid around him and pressed against his sternum to hold him in place while her other hand massaged his lower back, her legs out to either side of him.

Buffy had ended and defaulted to the menu screen, and the quiet that descended over them was serene, precious in its rarity. When she finally stopped, his legs had turned to lead and he couldn't bring himself to leave the warmth of the couch to go home just yet. She seemed to understand, and pulled him back against her with her arms around his waist. It was the closest they'd been in a long time, and he was having a hard time finding any more justification for friendzoning each other as hard as they'd been.

The welcoming aura of her house, the way she never got offended by his snarky attitude, the fact that they knew each other so well after all this time together, her silly messages and the way he looked forward to seeing her every night . . . they both knew the potential was there, but they were both too socially inept to make the first move. It came with the territory, he supposed—badass fighter pilot and supernerd with a penchant for 20th century Earth music who couldn't flirt his way out of a wet paper bag. It would have been funny if it was someone else.

For now, though, he was content to push all the heavy thoughts aside and lace his fingers with hers over his stomach. She murmured something to him, but it didn't work all the way through the fog of sleep threatening to overtake him.

"Hmm?"

"I said are you planning on staying over? I have extra blankets—you can camp out on the sofa if you want."

"I might have to take you up on that, but only if I get to keep using your chest as a pillow."

"You're such a letch. I give you one massage and suddenly you're commenting on my boobs." One of his hands went to her leg and lightly stroked her calf, and he turned his head to the side to hear her heartbeat, thumping fast only an inch away.

"And yet, you keep hanging out with me."

"What can I say, I'm a glutton for punishment. So are you staying over?"

"Probably not," he said apologetically. "I need to do a few things at home before tomorrow, and I should get to it pretty soon so I can start checking my eyelids for light leaks."

She laughed softly, his head shaking in the process. "'Checking my eyelids for light leaks.' I'll have to remember that one so I can use it later."

"Just as long as you credit me."

He sat up, albeit reluctantly, replaced his hat, got to his feet, and stretched. The tension that had been riding him all day was gone, and he felt like he might actually get eight solid hours tonight. Shepard walked him to the door and held it open while he collected the now-empty containers he'd brought over. The cookies he left on the counter.

"Same bat-time, same bat-channel tomorrow?" she asked.

"Sounds like a plan." He started to go past her but paused at the last minute to look at her, take in her green eyes and red hair and the tiny freckles dotting her face. After arguing with himself, he said _Oh, fuck it_, and kissed the corner of her mouth, lingering on her warm skin for just a moment before pulling back to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were wide and surprised, but her lips twitched up in a small smile.

"Goodnight, Joker," she said warmly.

"'Night, Shepard." He went out into the deep blue night, following his shadow that stretched out into the grass encased in the glow of her living room before she shut the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

The next night she came home and saw Joker sitting on her porch. She smiled and started up the steps with a whole line of conversation ready right up until she saw his face.

"Oh god, what happened?"

He looked up at her with disbelief carved into his features. "They're towing the _Normandy_ to Earth. The Alliance is thinking of making a memorial out of her. She'll be in port next week."

Shepard didn't know what to say. She sat down on the porch and dropped her hands in her lap. "Wow. They're gonna . . . a museum? Really?" She looked out into the darkening yard as the information sunk in. "I kinda hate that idea, Joker."

"I was hoping you'd say that, Commander," he answered, reverting back to her old title. She doubted he'd even noticed the slip. "Hackett messaged me—and you, too, probably—and said that there'd be a dinner party for the whole crew and a whole memorial event for the people who 'sacrificed themselves for the good of the galaxy.'" He huffed a joyless chuckle and stared at the white-painted planks beneath his feet. "They're gonna turn my baby into a fucking monument for tourists to walk through and stare at. My sh-_our _ship, Shepard."

"I know." She reached across and took his hand, which he grasped tightly. "So are you going?"

"I don't know yet. Are you?"

"Probably. It'll be the event of the season, especially if the great 'Commander Shepard' and her noble crew show up."

"I know you've always hated the pomp and circumstance," he said with a remarkable lack of snark. "Maybe we should go, though. I wouldn't mind seeing her one last time."

"Give the old girl a real send off," she said, and Joker nodded. "As long as you'll be my date to the big shindig, I'll be there."

"You want me to be your date?" he asked, brightening slightly.

"Don't get all cocky now, LT. But yes," she said, casting a sidelong glance his way, "I want you to come with me."

"I think I could do that." He squeezed her hand and she let him help her up so they could go inside. It was with some reluctance that she let him go, but she was worried that if she didn't that this night might be progressing in a direction she wasn't quite sure she wanted it to go just yet. She was still reeling at the idea of seeing her ship again after all this time, and the fact that she'd probably never fly in it again. It seemed like the end of a chapter of her life she hadn't realized she didn't really want to let go of just yet.

"You want to watch The Phantom Menace and make fun of it?" she asked, and he laughed.

"You really know how to party, Shep. I can't stay long, though—gotta draw up the new search grid for work tomorrow."

After they were situated with some dinner in front of them (spaghetti and meatballs tonight) she went quiet, just flipping through the movie menu on the tv looking for something they hadn't seen yet (or one they'd seen so often they could MST3K it), when she asked, "This is coming straight out of left field, but . . . oh hell, nevermind."

"You can't say something like that and expect me not to bug you about it."

"I know." She tossed the remote aside and raked her fingers through her hair. This had been bothering her since he'd kissed her the night before, and for a lot longer than that if she was being completely honest with herself. "Remember on the Citadel, right before the Catalyst was finished, and we were in Purgatory?"

"Uh huh . . ." He had an idea where she was going with this. It had been the proverbial elephant in the room for a long time now, and he'd wondered when it would be brought up again.

("_So, about you and me . . ." _

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Have you ever thought about it? About us, I mean?"_)

"You said you were into EDI at the time. I know you two spent a lot of time together in the helm, but I'd always wondered why you wanted to pursue something with her."

("_I'd never really thought about it, Shepard, no offense." _

_Which was the biggest lie ever told in the history of dishonesty._

_"And now that you're thinking about it?")_

Why had he gone after EDI? Sure, she was a good conversationalist and the body she'd downloaded herself into was _very_ easy on the eyes, but at the end of the day it boiled down to the fact that EDI was accessible and had shown an interest in him. Was that all there was to it? She was there, so he wanted her? That would make him sound like the shallowest guy ever to walk the planet, and maybe he had been. It had been a very long time since he'd had any meaningful skin-to-skin contact and he'd felt the need to connect with someone with everyone's impending deaths looming over the horizon. Even then, he was still an Alliance man to the core and couldn't bring himself to get over the fact that being with Shepard would have meant breaking regs. So he'd denied his feelings for her, and she'd gone back to the Normandy with all the wind suddenly taken out of her sails. The next day, they'd continued on as though nothing had happened, but the words were out there in the air between them.

("_I don't think it'd work with the both of us in uniform."_

_"I know, I just . . . I don't want to have any regrets, you know?"_

_He knew about regret. Boy, did he._

_"Shepard—"_

_"No, it's okay. Just forget I said anything." She looked out over the dance floor and saw EDI sitting at a table, cool and calm and metallic in the low light. "If you stared any harder, your eyes would fall out of your head, Joker." She was trying to sound casual, but her voice was strained._")

"I don't know," he answered, trying to figure out a way to phrase it that didn't make him sound desperate. "You gotta admit, she lucked out with that body. And it was right there next to me for twelve-plus hours a day, looking like that . . . it got my motor running for some reason."

"So all it takes is a pretty face and a pair of tits to get you going?" She gave a little self-deprecating laugh and glanced up at Joker, who was watching her reaction with a seriousness look he didn't wear very often. The intensity in those green eyes made her breath catch for a moment.

"No, it takes a great deal more than that."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply—"

"It's fine. It's not like I ever made an effort to show off my sensitive side, after all."

"You have a sensitive side?"

"Cleverly hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and wit." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it at the last minute.

"If you say so."

"I say so." He looked at his watch, made a surprised noise at the time, then stood up to leave. She went with him to the door, but didn't open it right away; her hand was frozen on the door knob. When the silence stretched out a beat too long, he asked, "Are you kidnapping me? Because I think I would be fine with that."

"I was just thinking, about last night." She looked up at him, willing him not to make her elaborate because she knew she'd turn into a blushing, stuttering mess by the end of it. He stepped closer to her, leaving only a few inches between them.

"Which part?" he asked, his voice pitched low so as to hide the nervous tremor. Her cheeks flushed pink and she stared at the middle of his chest so as to avoid those penetrating eyes that always saw right through her. "Oh, right. I think I know which part you mean." He touched her face and tilted her chin up, leaning down so their mouths were so close, almost touching. "I've been thinking about that, too." Her eyelids fluttered closed as his lips brushed hers, the lightest of touches, before pressing more firmly into the kiss with a sigh, melting into the taste of her.

It had been a long while since he'd been with a woman, as his body was intent on reminding him, and it felt so damned good to be touched like this, one of her hands playing along his back while the other stroked his bearded cheek. He hadn't known he was so starved for human contact, but as he wound his fingers into her hair and pulled her closer he thought he would be content to stay here with her like this for the foreseeable future.

He pulled away just far enough to speak, and his breath was warm on her heated skin. "I have to go home and . . . do stuff, so we can't . . ."

"That's all right," she whispered, kissing him again, "just don't stop yet, okay?" The brim of his hat bumped against her temple and she thought about taking it off, but that would have started a chain reaction of undressing each other and he really did have to go, much as she hated to admit it.

"You do realize that I'm turning into a big pile of jell-o right now," he said, when he could bring himself to separate from her long enough to speak.

"Well, I'll try not to take advantage of you. Much."

"That's a shame," he said, his lips gravitating to her ear so he could murmur, "because I can't wait to take advantage of you." With one last kiss, he reached past her and twisted the knob to open the door. She smiled and moved out of the way far enough for him to leave.

"You're so mean."

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you. Leaving a girl hanging like that is pure evil."

"What if I promise not to leave you hanging for long?"

"Hmmm . . . that might make up for it." He left with a wink and he felt her watching him all the way to his porch, when she shut the door with a little wave. Once inside, he stared at the empty room with a wistful smile on his face. He'd just kissed Shepard, and it had been quite possibly the best of his life. Now, he had something else to look forward to: a real date, and the chance to see his ship one last time before she got turned into a tourist attraction.

No one could say he led a charmed life, but it was shaping up to be a damned good one nonetheless.


	3. Chapter 3

Shepard had thought that the week leading up to the party would be fraught with semi-awkward conversations and sexual tension, as they'd decided to wait until after their first official date to take things to the next level. The following day at work, though, the foreman fell ill and she was put in charge of clearing out one whole section of the city that had seen a lot of damage. Entire blocks were reduced to ash and rubble, and they were uncovering long-dead bodies every hour. It was grim work, and being back in charge of a team was wearing on her like it never had before. She was dragging herself home after dark every night and barely had time to shower before falling into bed with exhaustion chewing at her bones.

On the second day of this, after Joker saw her return home with a half-hearted wave and the dark circles under her eyes, Shepard found a note taped to her door. It was a poem, written in his neat, careful hand that, read, "Roses are red, violets are blue, some poems rhyme, but this one doesn't." She smiled for the first time all day and put it on her bathroom mirror. The next day, there was another note that said, "Sometimes, when it's really quiet, I can hear my brain cells die." That one made her laugh out loud and she put it next to the other one, smiling wistfully as a high school kid with a crush while she did it.

The fourth day, there was no note and she was disappointed until she opened the screen door and found a beer bottle with a bow on it leaning against the door. She picked it up and looked over at Joker's house, where she could see him sitting on the back porch with an opened beer of his own on the arm rest. She took the bottle over and dragged the other chair next to his, and they sat and talked about nothing for an hour before she left with a nice buzz from the beer and from the kiss he gave her for good measure. She was beginning to think that she was developing a Pavlovian response to his beard, and flushed with warmth whenever she thought of the coarse hairs on her cheek. She'd never really been into guys with facial hair before, but Joker managed to pull it off with ease, as he did with so many things.

Shepard begged off work the day of the party so she'd be functional and wound up sleeping most of the day away, only waking up early enough to throw on the dress she'd bought for the occasion and apply some make up. Her hair went up in a French braid and just as she was slipping on her shoes, there was a knock on the door. Her heart started thumping hard as she opened the door and saw Joker standing there, wearing a tux and carrying a silver-tipped cane. He'd abandoned his ball cap for a black fedora and he looked like something straight out of the 1940s. She must have been staring, because Joker shuffled his feet and waited for her to say something.

"You look . . . wow. I don't think I've ever seen you in anything so formal before."

"But it's good, right? I mean, I haven't worn this thing in years. The vest is a little tight, but I think—"

Shepard ran her hands up his lapels and draped her arms over his shoulders, so close that he could smell her shampoo when she said, "You look positively dashing. Were I not expected to attend this event, I would take you in a womanly fashion."

"Because I'm handsome?"

"Because you're _so_ handsome." She kissed his cheek lightly, so as not to smudge her lipstick, and he took her elbow with a flourish that made her giggle (giggle, of all things—she didn't know whether to be appalled or grateful that she could even make that sound) and led her to the car. He even went so far as to open the door for her and she gave him an amused look as she got in, pretending not to notice how his gaze lingered on the exposed length of thigh she accidentally revealed since she hadn't worn a dress in ages and had forgotten how to sit in one.

After he'd gotten them in the air and underway, she asked, "So what's with the cane?"

"What? Oh, that. I figured if I was gonna be drinking tonight, I'd need a little extra help getting around so I don't wind up on my ass or in the hospital. Is it too much? I was going for dapper, but there's a fine line between that and looking like a pimp."

"No, I like it. You should wear suits more often, they're like male lingerie."

He flicked his eyes at her with a smirk. "Really? I'll have to keep that in mind. So, single-breasted suits really do it for you, huh?"

"Yeah," she said, sliding a little closer, "and the vest is hot, too."

"Bow tie or necktie?"

"Depends on the occasion, but I really like it when the tie is hanging loose over an opened collar so I can see that little triangle of skin," she traced the dip of his collarbone through the soft cotton of his dress shirt, "here."

He swallowed hard and put a hand on her leg, just above the knee. It was getting harder to concentrate on the road with her so close, the long line of her body warm on his arm. "What, uh . . . what do you . . . Shepard, if you don't stop touching me like that, I'm gonna turn around and take you to bed right now."

"I'm okay with that."

"No-I promised you a date," he said, mustering all his self-control to keep from sliding his hand up her thigh to find out if she was wearing his idea of lingerie, "and I know you want to see Garrus and Tali again."

"You have a point," she said with a regretful sigh, but she didn't move back to her side of the car; instead, she leaned against his side and hummed in approval when he put his arm around her. "Everyone's gonna be there, last time I checked. Well, except Samara, that is; she said she was on a mission and couldn't get away." She went still and quiet, and he knew she was thinking of the others who wouldn't be there—Ashley, Thane, and Mordin. Especially Mordin; she'd taken his death particularly hard.

He remembered the night after the team came back from Tuchanka when Shepard had come in and taken EDIs spot in the cockpit, drunker than he'd ever seen her. She wasn't a typical drunk, not loud and obnoxious like the people who hung out in bars on Omega; she weaved when she walked and slurred a little, but it was like the alcohol had crashed through the barriers she usually kept up around the memories of other teams, old missions that went wrong, regrets about her family, and every single shitty thing that had ever happened to her.

It hurt to watch the sadness on her face and the tears that needed to come but didn't as she talked about what happened at the Shroud. Her voice stayed low and even and didn't crack as she recounted Mordin's last words to her, and the way she could hear him singing over the comm before the explosion hit and turned his line to static. When she was done talking, she'd said good night and patted his shoulder before making her slow, unsteady way up to her cabin to sleep it off. That night, he'd finally understood what her file meant when it commended her for bearing up and staying sane after Akuze, and what it cost her to do so.

This time, he didn't berate himself for getting sentimental on her account, just tightened his hold on her and said, "I'll be right there with you all night. You know, if you need anything."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get morose all of a sudden."

"Hey, don't apologize. I was the idiot who brought it up. Sort of."

She closed her eyes and relaxed in his warmth, still amazed that she was allowed to be this close to him after wanting it for so long. The scent of him, like clean laundry and cologne, calmed her nerves and brought back the sweet ache she'd felt around him since he'd kissed her that first time.

They arrived a few minutes later and as they landed, Shepard could see the nose of the Normandy just on the other side of the visitor's center that had been built next to it. At the sight of the graceful sweep of her hull, the past came rushing back in a wave of nostalgia. It was their ship, battered and beaten but still kicking after all these years. It had been through hell twice and had carried them to safety so many times she'd lost count. It had been home to her when she had nowhere else to go, and it hurt her heart to see that proud ship on display like a tourist attraction.

She nostalgiaed even harder when she saw who was standing just outside the entrance.

"WREX!" she shouted, and all but ran to the huge, red-armored krogan leaning casually against the wall. He looked up at the sound of his name, and broke into a grin that would have looked like he was getting ready to eat her to someone unfamiliar with krogan facial expressions.

"Shepard! My friend!" He grunted when she careened into him and hugged him as best she could with all that hump in the way. "Enthusiastic as ever. It's good to see you again."

"I got the pictures you sent of your kids. They're precious."

Wrex chuckled and she stepped back to a more krogan-acceptable distance. His people didn't go in for hugging usually, but he'd made an exception for her a long time ago. Not that he'd had a whole lot of choice in the matter. "Hmmph. Don't let them hear you say that. They're in the 'beat it and eat it' stage when they try to pummel the crap out of everything they see, then chew on it until it's nothing but pulp. Kids, huh?" he said with a shrug that said she knew exactly what he meant.

"Looks like fatherhood's treating you well. How's Bakara?"

"Pregnant, again, and about as moody as you human females get when you're breeding. I'm not a fan of formal events, Shepard, you know that, but this is a vacation for me."

"She always seemed so level-headed," Joker said after he caught up to them. "Well, for a krogan, anyway."

"Breeding females tend to be . . . mercurial," Wrex answered with another shrug.

"Wow, that's a big word. Next you'll be telling me you can read."

Wrex's face darkened, but his eyes were amused. "Careful, Joker, or I'll break your face."

"A baby pyjack could break my face, so I don't know if I'd call that an accomplishment." Wrex clapped Joker (gently, for him) on the shoulder and they all went into the lion's den together.

Somewhere in the corner, a string ensemble was playing. There were two humans on the violin, another on the cello, an asari cellist, and a hanar playing something that resembled a guqin while it rested on a tripod so it could use its tentacles to pluck at the instrument. Long tables were set up along either wall with lines of people queuing up in front of them while others congregated in small groups around the huge room. There were several banks of monitors along the walls that presumably showed varying events from the Reaper War, featuring the Normandy and the exploits of Shepard herself. She felt a little self-conscious walking into a roomful of people who were obviously there to delve into the details of what she and her crew had accomplished, but she plowed into the room regardless, determined to make tonight as enjoyable as possible.

"Wow, a buffet-style dinner party," Joker said. "Classy."

"It could have been worse. There could have been waiters and wine lists and a whole lot of nasally voices asking me if I know the difference between Zinfandel and Chardonnay."

"Or potluck."

"Shut your mouth, potlucks are awesome."

"Not when half your guests can only eat dextro proteins." He looked over her shoulder. "Speaking of which . . ."

Shepard turned around just in time to see Garrus sidling up to her with a very serious expression on his face. He looked to be carved of granite but his eyes said otherwise, and she was pleased to see him out of armor for the first time in forever. "Commander," he said, all business except for a minute twitch of his mandibles, like he was trying to keep them tight to his face. Shepard followed suit and crossed her arms over her chest, immediately falling into her Alliance marine attitude like she'd never retired. It didn't work well with a dress, but she gave it the old college try anyway.

"Vakarian."

He tried to hold on to his serious face for a moment longer before losing it completely, laughing. "Damn, it's good to see you again."

"Same here." She hugged him and Joker shook his hand. "Have you claimed a table yet?"

"Not yet, but I think we can commandeer one for you."

They went to find somewhere to sit while she asked him about Tali and how that whole thing was going. He got really awkward and a blue blush crept up his neck when he told her that they were fine, and that things were . . . uh . . . progressing really well, and thanks for asking, Shepard. It was so surreal to see her whole team together again, and without the weight of the Reapers to darken their reunion.

There were place cards on the tables that no one was paying any attention to at all and Shepard wound up in Sparatus' seat between Tali and Joker. Vega soon had the whole table rolling with a story about the one time he and a bunch of guys in basic found themselves wandering the streets of New Orleans during Mardi Gras looking for a party and wound up in a house party full of ravers all stoned out of their gourds on ecstasy and hallex.

Joker sat back with a small smile on his face, watching the conversation but not really part of it as was his habit, and watched Shepard's face. She went from rapt attention to wide-eyed disbelief to laughing hard with the back of her hand over her mouth, the corners of her eyes crinkling into those little laugh lines so many women professed hatred for. He'd never seen her so relaxed and happy when they were serving together on the Normandy, and it inexplicably warmed him to see her like this. He turned his attention to the others and saw Garrus eyeing him, so he tipped his beer at him in acknowledgement. There, nice and manly. Totally cool in a not-acting-mushy-about-my-maybe-girlfriend way. Garrus just smirked and went back to listening to the story, where Vega was just getting to the part about being dared to streak down the middle of Pontchartrain.

After dinner was more or less over, they were allowed to wander the museum area if they chose, but Shepard had different plans.

"Hey guys," she said, leaning over the table conspiratorially. "Wanna break some rules?"

"As though we've ever done any differently under your command," Kaidan said, rolling his eyes.

"Har-de-har, very funny."

"She has a point, you know," Tali said. "Between stealing the Normandy, joining Cerberus, curing the krogan, making a truce with the geth, and generally blowing things up all the time, I don't think we've ever been a part of a traditional military operation _ever_."

"Okay, all of that stuff was incidental. Had to be done, good of the galaxy, winning the war, all that fun stuff. None of you have ever been the sort to play it safe, though."

"Hell yeah," Jack chimed in, slamming her fist onto the table for emphasis and making Liara jump about a foot in the air.

"I aim to misbehave," Shepard said, tipping a wink at Joker. "Who's with me?" When she stood up to leave, everyone followed. No one knew what she was planning, but they went with her regardless. Just like old times.


	4. Chapter 4

Kaidan took one look at what Shepard was pointing at and folded his arms over his chest. "You can't be serious. We already did this once and got away with it, what makes you think our luck will hold?"

"Because I've got a friend on the inside," Shepard answered and led the way over to where the Normandy was docked. Her hull had been patched and all her systems were still functional—or, so Shepard had been told. Her inside source was reliable, though, and so it was with that confidence that she led them up the gangway and keyed open the airlock doors.

"One last flight," Garrus said, reaching out for Tali's hand. "I like it. Let's go."

"All right, then," said Shepard. "Joker, fire up the engines. Everyone who wants to come along, all aboard." Once everyone was safely inside, she heard a whistle from down on the ground. There, just out of sight, was Admiral Hackett. He looked so different in his civilian clothes, and he greeted Shepard with a firm handshake and a smile.

"Comman—uh, Shepard," he said. "Good to see you up and about."

"Indeed. Thanks for helping me out with this, I really appreciate it." She looked up at the broad swath of silvery hull above her and smiled wistfully. "Her last voyage. It'll be nice to retire her in style, give everyone a chance to say goodbye."

"I can't imagine what this must be like for you. I know you were very attached to this ship."

"Well, I grew up homeless. The Normandy was the only stable place I'd ever had, and my crew was my family." She blinked away the sheen of tears that stung her eyes and turned her gaze back to the Admiral. "Feels like the end of an era, you know?"

"Mmm. I think I do." He straightened up and added, "She's all fueled up, all systems on line and functional. The hull's patched up well enough, but I wouldn't try any deep space maneuvers."

"No Crazy Ivans, huh?"

"No." He glanced sidelong at her and said, with a hint of suspicion, "You really pulled a Crazy Ivan?"

"_I_ didn't." She winked, shook his hand, and left him shaking his head, chuckling to himself.

As soon as she stepped on board, the familiar hum of the engines cycled up and she went to the cockpit to see Joker in his customary position in front of the holographic instrument panel.

"Drive core's in the green, all systems go, Commander." He reached up for her hand and she gave it gladly. "Where to, ma'am?"

"Nowhere in particular. We've got until dawn, just don't leave the stratosphere."

"Aye aye." He pulled her down and kissed her cheek, then spun his chair around to watch her go. Although she seemed to have no idea, she really did have a spectacular ass. "Mmm, mm-mm," he hummed to himself and went back to his instruments.

The ship wasn't quite how she'd left it; there were construction flood lamps set up in the CIC, open tool boxes on the floor, and loose panels barely covering exposed wiring. Tali looked torn between touring the ship and picking up a screwdriver and getting to work. Wrex, Grunt, and Jack were recounting past battles with thresher maws (which shouldn't have been a competition, but Wrex was winning anyway), and Jack mourned not being on the Normandy during the war and therefore missing meeting Kalros on Tuchanka. Miranda had gone down to her old office, presumably to see what Liara did to it during her tenure, Vega and Kasumi went with Cortez down to the shuttle bay, and Garrus and Kaidan were waiting for Shepard.

"So, did you have anything in mind?" Garrus asked. "Or is this just a pleasure cruise?

"Nope, no missions this time. Just . . ." She ran her fingers down the wall, searching for the words.

"Understood," Kaidan said. "Maybe we could all meet in the mess hall for a game of Skyllian Five?"

"Sounds like a plan. See you there in thirty."

She didn't really have a destination in mind when she started back toward the war room, just wandering around, lost in her thoughts. The ghosts of Anderson, Jenkins, Mordin, Thane, and everyone else pressed in close around her, but rather than sadness their memories were bittersweet. They had fought beside her in the biggest war anyone had seen in 50,000 years, and they had saved the lives of countless others. She had to believe that if they were out there somewhere, they were happy.

So engrossed was she in her own thoughts that she didn't notice the floor lights were acting strangely. One of them flashed at the corner of her vision and she glanced down to see if it was malfunctioning, but it blinked out. She took a step forward, and the light beside her foot came on. Another step, and the next light blinked on. She stopped, but the floor light a few feet away came on and blinked slowly. Following her instincts, she went over to the light and it winked out, only for another one to light up further down the walkway. Shepard followed the lights with growing hope until she came to the comm room, and the console there flickered to life. When she bent down to read the words that appeared on the screen, they said, _Welcome back, Shepard. It is good to see you again_.

"EDI? You're alive?" she asked, unsure if the AI could hear her after the damage she sustained after the explosion of the Citadel and the crash landing.

_Yes. After the crash, the crew attempted to repair me. They were somewhat successful, but lacked the resources to give me full functionality._

"I'm sorry, I wish I had known." She suddenly felt awful for not coming back sooner. EDI had been stuck here, alone and unable to communicate ever since the end of the war almost a year ago. "How've you been? Are you okay?" she asked, which sounded lame as hell given the circumstances.

_If you are asking if I am hurt, then the answer is no—at least, not in the way you mean. Much of my access to the Normandy's systems has been severed, although I am still capable of low-level maintenance and monitoring of the vital systems._

"I meant . . . are you lonely?"

_I am still a synthetic, Shepard. Complex emotions are not within my core programming. However, I am pleased to have you and Jeff aboard._

"It's good to be here, but EDI . . . once we land, I don't think we'll be back. The Alliance is making the Normandy a memorial, and probably won't fly again." Her eyes stung with tears and this time there was nothing she could do to keep them from spilling down her cheeks.

_Then I will perform that duty as best I can. Shepard, do not worry about me. You worried about everyone on your crew, but I will be fine here._

"Okay." She knew that tonight would be difficult, but she hadn't expected her first tears of the night to be shed over a ship and its AI. EDI, like Legion, had been more than that, though. She'd been part of the crew, as much as any of the others by the end. "Thanks EDI, for everything."

_It was an honor to serve with you, Commander. May I ask you for a favor?_

"Sure. Whatever you need." There was a longer pause while EDI thought about what she wanted to ask.

_Take care of Jeff for me._

She nodded wiped her eyes. "I will. Don't worry about that."

_Thank you, Shepard. Logging you out_.

* * *

Joker set the auto pilot and went down to the crew deck, where the others had set up a game of Skyllian Five. There was a cooler on the floor with various drinks in it and fully stocked cabinets; whoever Shepard's insider was, he was certainly thorough. Shepard had a bottle of root beer at her elbow and looked up with a wide smile when he came in.

"Joker! You're just in time, we saved you a spot." She patted the chair beside hers and handed him a stack of cards. For the next hour or so, he was aware that he was playing cards, and really badly if the dwindling stack of chips in front of him was any indication. He drank periodically from a bottle of something that he thought was probably water and once surprised himself by drinking Shepard's root beer instead. His tastebuds weren't ready for the taste and that was enough to wake him out of his stupor for approximately three seconds.

What was taking up a significant portion of his thoughts was the fact that her leg was touching his under the table, and she kept sneaking glances at him under her eyelashes when she thought no one else was looking. The shy, surreptitious looks and the intimate intent behind them, like she was thinking "_I know what your tongue tastes like, and it's freaking awesome,_" was so sexy that he was having a hard time concentrating on anything else.

He was trying not to sweat or be overly obvious in front of the others, so he undid his tie and let it hang loose from his neck, then opened the top two buttons of his shirt. A sharp intake of breath from his right got his attention and he saw Shepard staring intently at her cards as she fidgeted in her seat. She looked up at him again, her lips parted as her eyes traced the line of his jaw down to the exposed skin of his neck, her gaze so heavy he could almost feel it. Remembering their earlier conversation in the car, Joker smirked, tugged his collar down, and let his fingers trail down his chest. Her legs crossed and she leaned back, fanning herself with her cards.

_Well, this game just got more interesting,_ he thought.

He began his own version of strip poker then. When he lost the next hand, he shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it onto the floor. He folded on the hand after that and had her help him with his cufflinks so he could roll his sleeves up to his elbow. She was having a hard time not staring now, and had force her attention to the cards. The glances she shot him for the rest of the game had gone from innocence to downright obscene, saying something more like, "_I know what your tongue tastes like, and I can't wait to find out about the rest of you._"

When the game was over, Garrus told Kaidan that he wanted to show him something in the cargo hold and they both left, the turian tipping Joker a wink as he left. He made a mental note to send Garrus a bottle of that brandy he liked, the really good kind. It wasn't until they were gone that Joker noticed that he and Shepard were alone. She put her cards down and for a moment didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. It took him another beat to realize that she was nervous, an emotion he had a hard time equating with the Shepard he'd known for so long.

"Come over here," he said and took her hand, pulling her out of her seat and into his lap. She put all her weight on him for a split second before she remembered his bones and started to spring back up again, but he wrapped his arms around her to keep her there. "Hey, member of the 'I'm A Cyborg' club now, remember? I can hold you." And there weren't enough words to describe just how that made him feel. Always before he'd have to be over-cautious in intimate moments so he didn't break a bone and kill the mood, but now he could support her weight and hold her hand without worrying. It gave him a surge of masculine pride, and he couldn't resist pulling her down for a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and melted into him, pushing his fedora to the floor, returning the kiss with passion that sent shockwaves of want through his whole body. Her lips left his, only to leave a hot trail down to the dip in his collarbone, and his fingers tightened on her waist as she ran her tongue out to taste his skin.

"I know you said that you liked a man in a suit, but this . . ."

"Maybe it's not so much the suit as it is the pilot wearing it." She returned to his lips and explored his mouth, massaging his tongue with hers. He stroked her knee and pulled up the hem of her dress inch by inch as he worked his way up her thigh, but she stopped him with a strangled chuckle.

"Don't start anything you're not gonna finish right now."

"Who says I'm not gonna finish?" His hand slid higher and he could feel the damp fabric of her panties with the edge of his finger. Shepard gasped and gripped his forearm, although whether to stop him or to urge him on he wasn't sure. When she didn't try to push him away again, he cupped her sex and stroked her through her underwear, drawing forth a soft moan that made the blood pool with heat between his legs.

"God, you're so wet. I want to—"

His omnitool, apparently programmed with the new and improved "cockblocking asshole" VI personality, beeped on his wrist and he let out a frustrated groan. "What was that?" she asked.

"I set the proximity warning to alert me if we got too close to anything since we're on autopilot."

"We're not gonna crash, are we?"

"No, it's probably just a satellite or something. I should go back up to the cockpit to make sure, though." It was with the greatest reluctance that they parted and stood up, but he pulled her against him again to say, "Meet me up there in five?" She could feel him, hard and needy, against her thigh and the muscles low in her stomach clenched. If he hadn't been holding her up, her buckling knees would have spilled her to the floor.

"Yeah, okay." She kissed his cheek and watched him go, then slumped down in the chair to catch her breath. Once she was reasonably sure she could walk in a straight line without falling down, she headed to the bathroom to make sure everything was in order before heading up to the bridge.


	5. Chapter 5

It took all of thirty seconds to correct course and avoid the small satellite. They weren't in any danger of colliding, but buzzing Alliance property was generally considered bad form and someone might call him on it, and then he'd have to act like he was sorry to some high-and-mighty. That sort of thing tended to give him headaches.

He sat back in the seat, his guts in one big knot of anticipation. The stiff and insistent hard-on he was sporting made it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the fact that she'd be up here soon, and that there were no missions or wars or psychotic bad guys to get between them anymore. They had all night, and every night after that to be together. That his thoughts had branched out from lust to the possibility of a future with her was both surprising and exciting despite his natural tendency to scoff at everything even remotely resembling sunshine and bunnies.

His train of thought was derailed completely when the door behind him gave a pneumatic hiss and slid open. Joker swiveled the seat around and saw Shepard leaning against the wall with a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Have I ever mentioned how much I like that chair?" she asked, pushing away from the wall and sauntering over to him. Her eyes were dark and smoldering with her intentions. "Or how many times I fantasized about you and I in it?"

"I . . . don't think you ever, uh, mentioned it, no." His mouth couldn't seem to form words in its usual easy manner, not with Shepard looking at him like that. Especially not when she swung her leg over his and straddled him, her hair in her reddening face, and started unbuttoning his shirt. It took him a minute to remember he had hands at the ends of his arms, but then he went around behind her and pulled down the zipper of her dress. The teeth opened one by one, each one a staccato bump as it separated and revealed her warm, bare, scarred skin. Once his shirt was open, she raised her arms and let him lift the dress up and off, and then there was no force on earth or elsewhere that could have kept him from her.

Joker wasn't aware that he was waiting for something until it didn't happen—that momentary pang of anxiety that came from giving control of his body over to someone else. With his condition, he had to be aware of every move he made, had to know what was happening around him at all times. When he gave a woman permission to touch him, she usually didn't understand the gravity of that decision. He didn't ever just jump into bed with someone, because he had to be sure that he wouldn't wind up in the hospital at the end of the night. On two (very memorable) occasions, that had happened anyway.

Shepard, though . . . she was different. It wasn't just because the bones of his lower half, and part of his upper half, were made of metal now. In their jobs, they had developed a huge amount of trust in each other—she depended on him to fly her through impossible situations, and he depended on her to lead him home again. With her, he could give all of himself without holding back.

He realized he must have been staring longer than he'd thought when Shepard said, "See something you like?" and her voice held a hint of hesitation. He nodded wordlessly and let his fingers quest up her sides to trace the edge of her ribs, then up to her breasts, limned with the orange light of the instrument panel. Her hair was on fire with that light, and it glowed in her eyes like her implants used to do before she'd had them fixed.

He leaned forward and took her nipple into his mouth, and the hardness between his legs intensified until it was almost painful when she gasped out his name. He murmured something against her skin, and she made a questioning sound so he had to repeat it. Even though he was usually against such things, he could let it slide just this once.

"You're so beautiful." For the smile she gave him at that admission, he would have said anything, no matter how potentially embarrassing. He pulled her closer and almost moaned aloud when she rolled her hips against him. "Sorry I waited so long to tell you."

"You're forgiven," she said. "Just this once."

"I'll have to start saying it more often, then."

"Careful, a girl could get spoiled hearing talk like that." She started unbuckling his belt while he slipped inside her panties and touched her center, and the wet warmth of her body was turning him on so much that he had to restrain himself from just flipping her onto her back so he could have his way with her. This first time, though, he wanted to watch her move.

"God, Joker, is this really happening?" She stroked his cheeks, her fingers scraping lightly through his beard, and searched his face like he might disappear at any moment. "You might have to pinch me, because I can't believe this is real." He grinned, did as she said, and she squealed and twisted in his lap. "I meant on my _arm_, not my ass!"

"Why would I do that, when I've got you practically naked right here?" He made little figure eights around her clit and she threw her head back with a gasp.

"You . . . hmmm . . . you may have a . . . a point."

"I usually do."

"Oh, Joker, I need you right now, please—"

She fumbled with his fly and he lifted his hips so she could tug his pants off, her underwear following suit right after. She got back in his lap again and reached down between them to wrap her fingers around his cock and stroke him slowly. Some of her hesitation had drained away, but he could feel the nervous energy in her arms and the way her heart was pounding out of her chest. While she was a powerhouse on the battlefield and a force to be reckoned with to every other soul in the galaxy, here with him she was just Shepard, the woman beneath the warrior, and his heart suddenly felt too big for his chest.

He put a hand over hers and between the two of them they got him where he needed to be and she lowered herself onto him, her eyes locked onto his as he slid inside her, filling her. When their hips met, he put his arms around her and she kissed him, and her lips trembled against his. He moved her hair aside and trailed kisses down her neck, her walls fluttering and tightening around him with every breathy moan he drew from her. All at once it became impossible not to move and he rocked his hips with hers, finding a rhythm as old as humanity itself.

Her fingers flexed and loosened in rhythm with his thrusts and he cupped her breast, kneading it and rubbing circles around the stiffening nipple. All conscious thought disappeared and all he knew was the slide of her skin on his, the tight heat of her body, her breath on his shoulder as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, a gasp and a moan on every exhale. He grabbed her waist tightly, forcing her to slow down; maddening as it was to deny himself the friction he needed, he wanted this to last. Her legs were quivering with restraint and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer.

"I'm so close," she whispered, and nipped at his ear. "You feel so good, I—I want—"

He stopped her completely and she gritted her teeth in frustration. "What do you want, baby?" he asked, and his breath in her ear made her shiver. "Let me hear you say it."

"I want you to come inside me."

Those words finally broke him and he loosened his grip on her, letting her pick up the pace and work them both toward the edge. The waves of pleasure built until he was sure he'd reached his peak, but it didn't stop there. It felt so good, so fucking _amazing_, and he thought for sure that the sensory overload would kill him. She kissed him with bruising passion, holding him in place with a fistful of his hair and her fingers on his jaw, and as she rode him with those glorious hips of hers undulating like the ocean the rest of the galaxy ceased to matter. There was nothing else but them, the dim orange lights, the creak of leather, and the exquisite pain/pleasure that was continuing to build up in his core and he just knew that once he fell over the edge, he would blow apart like a dandelion in the wind.

He tried to tell her that he was close, and that this was the best he'd ever felt in his life, but all that came out was an incomprehensible series of desperate vowel sounds. One moment he was delirious with the need for release, and the next he was coming, harder than he was ready for, and his head was full of a white noise roar as he spilled into her. She went stone-still for a split second, and then she came, too, her walls clenching erratically around him. There seemed to be no end to it; with every move she made, she pulled another orgasm out of him until finally his body had enough and he collapsed back in the seat, his nerves thrumming with the aftershocks, empty and sated and alive.

They held each other as the world slowly re-formed around them, and she kissed his sweat-slickened temple. "That was . . . spectacular," she said with a small chuckle, and he hummed in agreement.

"Did it live up to your fantasy?"

"Blew it right out of the water." He kissed her, slowly at first and then with theatrical enthusiasm with lots of growling and ridiculous noises until she laughed, and the universe righted itself. She rose up off of him with a satisfied sigh, and they both began getting dressed again, sneaking peeks at each other, particularly when he put his shirt back on without the tie and left it open at the top for her. Joker made a mental note to buy more suits to wear around her.

Once they'd gotten themselves more or less presentable again they went back to the pilot's seat, him behind her with his arms around her waist. His fingers traced a slow, lazy circuit from her navel up to idly caress the swell of her breast, then back down to the dip of her waist. She lay back against him with her eyes closed, more relaxed than she could remember being in her life, and the rise and fall of her chest slowed.

"You asleep?" he asked several minutes later, and she shook her head.

"Hmm-mmm. I was just thinking."

"I thought I smelled smoke." She elbowed him gently and called him an asshole. "So what were you thinking about?"

"Just . . . remembering. I don't think, in any of the tours we were on together, you ever stood up when I came in the room. Like, ever. You never saluted me either, or if you did I don't remember it. You were forever giving me shit, and one of the first conversations I ever had with you involved you yelling at me for thinking that I might be looking down on you for your condition."

So here it was finally—four years later, she was going to give him a long overdue dressing-down. But before he could begin to come up with a witty rebuke to being chastised, she said, "And I never thanked you for it."

"Huh?" he blurted, and thought, _Oh, yes, very eloquent, Joker_.

She took a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing. "After I became a Spectre, I was worried that the extra power would go to my head. I mean, I could do anything I wanted to—within reason—to get the job done. Collateral damage, requisitions, roughing up suspects, upgrades, all that stuff was within my purview. I could skirt Alliance protocol anytime I wanted." She squeezed his hand and turned her head to kiss his scruffy cheek. "But you didn't give a damn that I was the first human Spectre. All you wanted to do was fly, and everything else was optional. Everyone respected me because of my record, or my medals, or my Spectre status—with you, I had to _earn_ it. I had to earn your respect, but I never once questioned your loyalty."

He'd never considered that just being himself could have made that much of an impact on her. It wasn't anything he'd done consciously, and he'd always been terrible at taking a compliment, but he had to admit . . . it was nice to hear.

"So, thank you, Joker. For being there, keeping me sane through the worst parts of my life and making them better. Thank you. For everything."

Normally, this was his cue to deflect with humor or self-deprecation, but he wasn't sure what to say after something like that. _You're welcome_ seemed lame, so he just turned her head to him and kissed her again. He really liked that, being able to kiss her whenever he wanted.

They stayed together until he had to disengage the autopilot, and then she had to move out of the way to let him dock the _Normandy_. The clamps locked into place and the engines cycled down, and the rest of the crew came up to the airlock for the final goodbye. Shepard extracted a promise from Wrex, Liara, Tali, Garrus, and Kaidan to come over the following day for lunch, videogames, and a tour of the rebuilt sections of London. Tali wanted everyone to watch Fleet and Flotilla and was waxing poetic about it to anyone who would listen as they went down the gangway. Joker offered his arm and Shepard took it with a smile, and they made their way to the car. As they took off, she gave the ship a little wave and promised herself that she'd go by every once in a while to check in on EDI, for old times' sake.

Once they were back home, they went their separate ways to shower and change and Joker left the door unlocked so she could come in when she was done. She left a trail of clothes to the bathroom and spent most of the shower running her hands over her body, remembering the way he'd touched her. Her head was light and giddy and she leaned against the wall, giggling, with her hands clasped over her mouth. It had been an eternity since she'd been so happy.

She toweled off and changed into a pair of sleep shorts and one of Joker's old undershirts that she'd had to wear home one time after getting spaghetti sauce on her. One of a million memories she had to choose from now that weren't tinted with the stresses and horrors of the Reaper war, and she couldn't even find the words to describe how much it meant to have Joker sharing them with her. She padded over to his house, her feet getting wet with dew, and let herself in. The rooms were all dark except for the bedroom, and she walked a little heavier than usual to let him know she was there, but when she peeked around the corner she found him fast asleep in the bed. She slid under the covers and he cracked an eyelid just long enough to see her and pulled her against him with a deep, sleepy sigh.

"Hey there, handsome."

"My, you are full of compliments tonight."

"Oh, come on. You know you love it." She laid her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, slow and steady. He rubbed her back and inhaled the scent of her hair, and the warmth of his body felt like home.

"Of course, I've always loved it." She went still and quiet for a beat, then snuggled into him and threw her arm over him. He replayed what he'd said and realized he'd made one crucial slip.

You, he'd said. 'I've always loved you.' He could have made a joke and made excuses about being tired and not really knowing what he was saying, but that wouldn't make that statement any less true. He could let it stand for now; that was a conversation for tomorrow, and all the tomorrows after that. They had all the time in the world to get to know each other all over again and that, Joker thought, was pretty fucking awesome.


End file.
